The Assignment
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Cowley is playing his cards close to his chest again.  The only clue is the order: "Bodie, your onerous assignment is to get Doyle into a suit by tomorrow morning."


Bodie & Doyle strolled into Cowley's office for their next assignment. It was late morning and it had been lovely to get a lie in for a change. Their last few assignments hadn't been too taxing and they were in a relaxed mood. They never knew when that happy state was going to change and were ever on the alert. Cowley's opening question was certainly an odd one that morning. He looked first at Doyle, in his usual outfit of tee-shirt and overly tight jeans, and then to Bodie in his usual elegant suit. Chalk and cheese indeed.

"Do you possess a suit, Doyle?"

Doyle wasn't often fazed. "Well, I could hire one if you're particular, sir."

Bodie smirked.

"I would be happier if you could buy one – and not on expenses either. It could come in useful for christenings, weddings, funerals …" Cowley trailed off having exhausted his use of suits. "Bodie, your onerous assignment is to get Doyle into a suit by tomorrow morning."

"Is he being christened or wedded sir?"

"He'll be buried if he doesn't own one by morning."

"I have tried to smarten him up, sir, but he comes over all peculiar every time we pass a gents' outfitters."

"Well get some sedatives from the doctor on your way out. And by the time you've finished with him, I don't want him looking like an ice-cream salesman or a mafia gang member."

Doyle felt he'd been ignored long enough. "Can I ask why I have to be stuffed into a suit, particularly in the middle of summer?"

"Because I say so."

Well, you can't argue with that. It seemed though that Doyle was happy to argue the point all morning.

"On our way, sir," said Bodie heading for the door. He tugged on Doyle's sleeve as he got up. There were some battles not worth trying for.

"Oh, and both of you. Get your hair cut too. I want you back here same time tomorrow looking a picture of elegance."

Doyle threw himself into the passenger seat. "Because I say so," he mimicked. Bodie was grinning broadly. This was an interesting start to the day, and winding up Doyle was an added bonus. He said nothing on their journey; he just enjoyed the moment. After some time, it was clear to Doyle that they weren't going home. They pulled up instead in an area Doyle was vaguely familiar with. He trailed after Bodie, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Now, if you're good I'll buy you a ice-cream."

"Where're we going anyway?"

"To see my tailor."

"If he goes anywhere near my inside leg …" Doyle let the threat hang as they entered the gent's emporium.

Bodie introduced Mr Edis to his partner, who reluctantly shook hands with him while casting a cautious eye around the large shop.

"We've come to buy Ray a suit."

"Hire," Doyle corrected.

"The old man said 'buy', Ray."

"Yeah, well he's not to know, and he's not here …"

Bodie smiled in mild embarrassment at Mr Edis. "He's allergic to suits," he explained.

"Is he getting married? That's usually why reluctant men get dragged in here," said Mr Edis shrewdly.

"No, but he will get sacked if we don't get him into a suit."

Doyle had wandered over to the sales rack. Bodie let him get on with it. At least he was showing a bit of interest.

"Does he know what kind of suit he's looking for?" Mr Edis asked Bodie.

"No, but I'm betting he'll get the cheapest thing you've got and say that it'll do."

Mr Edis shook his head sadly as the pair watched Doyle flicking through the clothes rack. Eventually he brought a suit to the counter.

"There. That'll do."

Mr Edis and his regular smiled knowingly at each other.

"I think the lapels are rather wide for your frame Mr Doyle," said the tailor professionally. He looked more closely at the suit. "As well as being the wrong size."

He reached for the tape measure from round his neck. Doyle backed away suddenly. Bodie made a grab for him before he made a bolt for the door. Doyle blurted out his waist and hip measurements.

"And leg?" asked Mr Edis innocently stroking his tape measure.

"That's it. I'm going," said Doyle firmly. Bodie still had hold of him, chuckling delightedly.

"Just close your eyes and think of England," Bodie suggested, adding softly, "'cos if you don't I'll break your arm." He smiled into Doyle's eyes and patted his shoulder. Doyle glared at him, but submitted himself to the tailor.

"There, that wasn't too bad was it," Bodie purred.

"You're enjoying this."

"Every moment, Ray!"

The tailor looked on the sales rack, selected a couple of suits and suggested that Doyle try them on.

"You may want to borrow a shirt and shoes," suggested Mr Edis.

Doyle looked confused. Bodie explained that no suit would look good on top of a bright yellow tee-shirt, to say nothing about the trainers.

"No," agreed Mr Edis sadly, "let us say nothing about the trainers."

Doyle rolled his eyes. Would this day ever end?

The first suit looked good. "Let's see how it walks, Mr Doyle." Doyle looked to Bodie for a translation.

"He wants you to walk up and down in it to see if it fits in the right places," Bodie explained.

"I'm not mincing …"

"Do as you're told for once," Bodie glowered. Doyle glared back, but did as he was told.

Tailor and regular looked appraisingly at their reluctant customer.

"A bit wide in the leg?" Bodie suggested. The tailor nodded.

Doyle was ordered to try the other suit. It fitted him better but a bit long in the leg. Bodie asked if it could be taken up if they waited. Doyle had the indignity of having to climb up on a chair while the tailor pinned the leg. The fact that other customers where also having adjust-ments cut no ice with Doyle.

Before the tailor retreated to the back room to make the alterations, Bodie whispered to him. "Could you sew up the pockets, too, to stop him pulling the suit out of line?"

Doyle changed back into his scruffy clothes and wondered how Bodie put up with all this nonsense. He had the cheek to ask for a discount when Mr Edis came back. Bodie felt embarrassed but Mr Edis did knock something off if Doyle would buy a tie to go with the suit. Doyle agreed just to get out of the shop. Bodie assured Mr Edis that Doyle did have one decent shirt and a pair of black shoes at home to go with his purchase. They shook hands and left.

Bodie told a sulking Doyle that he hadn't been good so would have to buy lunch for them both. Doyle said that he still didn't understand why they needed to dress like tailors' dummies for an assignment. Bodie reminded him that they didn't yet know what their next assignment was going to be. It could be as foreign royal bodyguard. Or guarding the body of some sexy starlet. "With all the press and cameras around, Ray, you need to look your best. Which reminds me, we haven't carried out the next half of our assignment." Doyle looked blank. "Haircut?" Bodie reminded him. Doyle rolled his eyes.

Next day saw the pair duly scrubbed to within an inch of their lives, in their best livery, complete with haircut. They stood to attention as their boss took his time assessing the result.

"Good, good," Cowley purred, as though weighing them up for market. They noticed that the Cow was also in his best suit. To add to the agents' confusion Cowley relieved them of their weaponry. "That looks better. The holster's rather bulky. It spoils the line of the suit, don't you think? Let's go, gentlemen."

"Go where?" Bodie asked feeling naked without his gun.

Cowley said nothing and his agents trailed after him to the main road where, to their surprise, a chauffeur-driven limousine was waiting for them. They climbed in. Cowley was still saying nothing but smiling secretly to himself - a sign that always worried CI5 agents. The operatives looked around them as they drove through the London streets, trying to get their bearings. The driver left London in a northerly direction and after an hour or so eventually stopped at a pretty village pub. They got out. Cowley thanked the chauffeur who handed him a box. Cowley opened it on a picnic bench. Inside were three dark red roses. To their surprise Cowley placed a rose in the button-hole of their lapels, one for each and one for himself.

"A wedding?" Doyle mouthed to Bodie behind the Cow's back. Bodie shrugged and they followed their leader down the narrow high street to the church. On the way Bodie had a sudden idea. He nudged Doyle in the ribs.

"I think I get it now," he declared quietly so the Cow wouldn't hear. Doyle looked at him expectantly. "It's either the christening of Cowley's love child, or a shotgun wedding – yours! One of your cast-offs has come crying to him because she's in the family way. Can't bring shame on CI5, Ray!" Bodie beamed at his joke.

"Could be an arranged marriage - yours," Doyle countered. "Think of it a bit like having a tom cat neutered!"

Bodie was denied a reply as they turned into the churchyard. They were met at the door by a beaming vicar and a few platitudes were exchanged while Cowley introduced his operatives. There were already people inside the church and the interior was alive with flowers. The vicar led the trio to the altar. They were shown to a front pew where a few people were already standing around. They exchanged the brief smiles of strangers.

"Look, Ray," Bodie whispered, "It's easy. Just say 'I do' every time I kick you in the ankles, ok?"

Doyle felt restricted from a fruity come-back by the proximity of their close neighbours in the pew and the venerable building itself. Having had his joke, Bodie scanned a practised eye over the church, looking for vantage points, hiding places etc. Doyle too was weighing up the proceedings. If anything kicked off, it would be difficult to evacuate the church quickly. Too hemmed in. They were still very conscious of not having weapons. They had thought they'd be supplied with something on arrival. The congregation were beginning to settle down and there was an air of expectation.

The pair noticed that Cowley hadn't yet taken his pew. There was an 'order of service' on the seats which Bodie and Doyle took automatically before they sat. They gave it a cursory glance. The pamphlet announced the wedding of Major George Cowley to Miss Elizabeth Walsh. They read it again before looking in wide-eyed disbelief at their boss, their jaws hitting the floor as the Wedding March began. This was a picture of 'his boys' that George Cowley would always remember with a chuckle in his throat and fond affection in his heart. The other picture he held was of his bride as she made her slow and stately way up the aisle towards him.

3


End file.
